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<title>5 times tucker's words failed him + 1 time they didn't by Anonymous</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25402885">5 times tucker's words failed him + 1 time they didn't</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mistletoe, Pining, Realm of Mianite, Wedding Night</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:55:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25402885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker speaks twenty-three languages (to some extent), and Thomas Cassell is the only person in the entire world that can ever bring him to a loss for words.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>William Tucker Boner/Tom Cassell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous, Mianite Modern Politics AU</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>5 times tucker's words failed him + 1 time they didn't</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyverneSien/gifts">SyverneSien</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tucker isn't often failed by his words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's his job to be good with them, after all. Being Secretary of State requires precision and knowledge of languages. He speaks seven languages fluently and bits and pieces of another sixteen, ranging from conversational German down to a simple greeting in Swedish. It's the most respect one can show another person, to make an effort to speak their language, and instantly establishes trust. Besides, it's a respectable and useful pastime. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of all twenty-three languages that Tucker can exchange pleasantries in, there is not a single arrangement of words that can explain his relationship with the Secretary of the Treasury, Tom Cassell, nor how Tucker feels about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker counted five times in his life that he found himself at a loss for words, in any language.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all involved Tom.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>One.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(English)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker strides up the front steps of the White House, his new navy suit clean and pressed. The president is waiting for him. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>president,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ianite, who is now his boss. Nothing’s quite set in yet - Tucker had only accepted the position of State Secretary a few hours ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker finds the president in conversation with two men. Neither of them draws his attention. His hands are sweating, so he tries to wipe them on his trousers. Tucker is unsuccessful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Jericho!” Ianite calls as she notices him. “Gentlemen, this is my Secretary of State, Tucker Jericho. Secretary Jericho, this is Vice President Jordan Maron and Treasury Secretary Tom Cassell.” She gestures to Jordan first, and Tucker gives him a polite nod. Then Tom steals his attention and with it, his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Decorum, huh?” Tom’s lips twitch into a smirk. “I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work with you, Mr Secretary. I’m sure we’ll get along fabulously.” He sticks out his hand for Tucker to shake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker forces himself not to stare at Tom’s lips and instead manages a, “Sure,” and shakes Tom’s hand.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dos.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Spanish)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom waltzes into Tucker’s office with far too much sway in his hips for a serious politician. He drops a stack of papers on Tucker’s desk and declares, “We’re gonna be roommates, Jerry-cho!” with enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker blinks, hoping that this is a prank. The rational part of his brain is telling him that this is a terrible idea - living with his political archrival and secret crush cannot possibly go well. However, there’s a tiny flicker across his mind that he shuts down rather quickly before it can go from harmless to something he’d rather not think about at work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cat got your tongue?” Tom taunts, clearing off a space on Tucker’s desk and sitting down. Before Tucker can stop him, Tom grabs Tucker’s tie and tugs him forward. Tucker’s heart stops.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let go of me, please,” Tucker squeaks, wincing at how pitiful he sounds. He’s supposed to be the State Secretary of the United States, damn it! He avoided two wars with foreign powers before lunch! He was one of the most powerful men in the country! How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> some overly flirtatious and stunningly handsome Entropy politician just </span>
  <em>
    <span>strut</span>
  </em>
  <span> into his office and somehow make him unable to form a coherent sentence!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom grins and Tucker watches as Tom’s gaze trails down his face. Tom’s eyes stop and he licks his lips, before giving Tucker a suggestive wink and releasing his grip on Tucker’s tie. “Well?” Tom prompts, cocking an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker swallows the lump in his throat and straightens his tie. “Whose idea was this?” Tucker asks, tearing his eyes from Tom and gesturing to the stack of papers. “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to live with you.” He grimaces forcefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Executive order,” Tom claims. “We both live too far away and apartments in this city are really, really expensive, so we’re going to share. Sign the paperwork and I’ll take you over after work.” Tom smirks. “Congratulations, Jericho - you’re the most recent in a long line of cute boys that I’ve brought home. Maybe you’ll last longer than one night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker scowls as he feels an unbidden blush rise to his cheeks and instantly becomes embarrassed. “Get out of my office, Cassell,” he growls, standing up and attempting to haul Tom off of his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” is all Tom can say before Tucker is practically pushing him out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out!”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drei.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(German)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker carpools to the White House Christmas party with Tom but instantly flees away from him. Not tonight, when mistletoe is lurking in every dark corner, will he stay next to Tom, the flirtatious bastard. Tom absolutely wouldn’t hesitate to kiss Tucker in front of all of their coworkers, and Tucker doesn’t want to risk it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It turns out that avoiding Tom only delayed the inevitable, because Tom saunters up to Tucker while he’s hiding from Sonja in one of the aforementioned dark corners. Tucker wonders if he ever stops smirking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re under the mistletoe, Jerry!” Tom coos, and Tucker curses. He hadn’t noticed the stupid plant above his head. It was such a tiny thing, to be the bane of his existence. “You’re not going to deny the tradition, are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can and I will,” Tucker snarls, ignoring the people around them staring. “Go away quickly and we can pretend it didn’t happen.” He lies to himself and tries to make himself believe that the idea of kissing Tom isn’t appealing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kiss me and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can pretend it didn’t happen,” Tom shoots back, striding closer to Tucker with confidence that makes Tucker feel as if Tom is going to walk right through him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People are starting to whisper, and Tucker knows there are going to be incriminating photos all over social media regardless of whether they kiss or not. Might as well give the internet a good show, eh?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker deliberately doesn’t think about his interest in knowing what kissing Tom would be like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tucker grumbles, crossing and uncrossing his arms as he tries to figure out what to do with his stance. He’s never kissed another man before. Of course, he’s nervous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom’s hand slips under Tucker’s chin and tilts it up. Tucker squeezes his eyes closed, trying not to think about what he’s about to do and who he’s about to do it with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, that sounds dirty.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the brief second that Tucker loses concentration, Tom closes the gap and Tucker feels the soft press of Tom’s lips against his. Tucker gasps quietly into Tom’s mouth, surprised by Tom’s tenderness. Tom’s touch against his skin sends a tingle of electricity down his spine and Tucker can feel himself starting to melt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the touch is gone and any fondness Tom had shown for Tucker during their kiss was gone, replaced by the seductive businessman, and Tucker is still reeling and trying to catch up. Tom flicks a stray speck of something from Tucker’s cheek as he removes his hand, and Tucker wishes he could chase the comfort he felt within Tom’s grasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom straightens Tucker’s lapel and, when Tucker doesn’t say anything and his mouth continues to hang slightly agape, looks up at him with mild concern. His emotion doesn’t come through in his question, though - a simple, teasing, “So?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker blinks and closes his mouth. He’d been a million miles away, envisioning an impossible future with Tom. It was gone now, the fleeting fantasy of a madman in love. “So what?” he shoots back, but there is no poison on his tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We forget this ever happened?” Tom fixes his tie and then his hair, before shooting Tucker a charming smile. Tucker is surprised that he’s still standing. Tom’s smile plus the alcohol (and the kiss) is making his knees weak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, how Tucker just wants to reach out and take Tom’s hand. It would be so easy. Or to grab him and pull him back down for another kiss. Or to just embrace him and refuse to let him go. But Tucker does none of these things, and instead dejectedly mutters, “It never happened.” His voice breaks at the end of the last word and he’s grateful when Tom doesn’t notice or at least doesn’t point it out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Tom clears his throat. “Let me know when you want to head home, ‘kay, Jerry?” Tucker’s never seen Tom look </span>
  <em>
    <span>awkward</span>
  </em>
  <span> before, but this is the closest he’s ever come. Tom stiffly pats Tucker on the shoulder and then retreats into the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker gets another drink.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nne.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Swahili)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tucker!” Tom practically throws himself into Tucker’s arms and Tucker stumbles, trying to quickly acclimatize to the added weight. They hadn’t seen each other in a week, but it had felt like forever. Tom had been away visiting family in Detroit, leaving Tucker alone in their apartment. “Tucker, </span>
  <em>
    <span>darling,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m taking you out for dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wh… what?” Tucker stammers as Tom releases him from the hug and takes a step back. First: </span>
  <em>
    <span>darling?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tom flirted with him a lot, but not usually like that. Second: out for dinner? With Tom? And it had nothing to do with work - Tucker could tell because Tom had used his first name. Why did Tom want to take him for </span>
  <em>
    <span>dinner?</span>
  </em>
  <span> They could catch up easily over takeout and a bad TV drama.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom squeezes Tucker’s hand and Tucker’s ears turn red as he realizes that they’re holding hands. “It’s called a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tucker, and I’m taking you on one. Man, I know you haven’t dated since your little whatever with Sonja in uni, but I didn’t think that you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> clueless,” Tom scoffs as he rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...a date?” Tucker repeats slowly. His brain feels like it’s trying to run through molasses. “...with me?” The words feel strange on his lips. Tom wants to take him on a date. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tom</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to take him on a date. Tom wants to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> on a date. Tom wants to take him on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tucker’s heart hammers in his chest. He prays to whatever higher being may exist that this wasn’t a cruel prank that Tom was trying to play on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom sighs, exasperated. “Yes, Tucker, a date with you. Now come along, we’ve got reservations and I don’t want to be late. It’s your favourite restaurant and everything!” Tom turns towards their car, tugging Tucker along behind him by their interlaced fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker has never felt happier, and a giddy smile rises to his face.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cinq.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(French)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A picnic lunch in the park marks the most wonderful day of Tucker’s life (so far). He and Tom are sitting in the shade of an oak tree, with Tucker’s head on Tom’s lap and Tom’s fingers gently caressing Tucker’s hair. Tom had planned the whole thing, taking Tucker by surprise. It was almost exactly a week after their third anniversary, and their anniversary party had been great, but Tucker preferred this over a busy event with guests. Just him and his boyfriend, enjoying the nice weather.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s one more thing that I have planned for today,” Tom says after an indefinite amount of time has passed. “Let me get up, please, darling?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker sits up and yawns, tousled hair falling over his brow. He catches Tom looking and smiles. “Yet another surprise?” Tucker teases as Tom gently leads him to his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom lets go of Tucker’s hand and steps away. “You could say that,” Tom answers vaguely. He buries his hands in his pockets. “More like… a question. For you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Tucker pauses and looks back at Tom. His heart skips two beats as Tom slowly kneels and draws out a small black box from his pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tucker Jericho,” Tom starts, opening the box, “will you marry me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker’s vocal cords refuse to work, and instead of answering, he rushes forward and hauls Tom back to his feet to kiss him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom laughs when the kiss is broken. “I’ll take that as a yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Tucker croaks, embracing Tom. “God, yes.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>One.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucker can barely hear the priest’s voice over the pounding of his heart. Tom squeezes his hands reassuringly and Tucker’s smile widens. Tucker is buzzing with anxiety. It’s just two words. Two simple words and everything will be done. Tucker had insisted that they go the simple route. He doesn’t want to fumble on such an important occasion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tom goes first. The priest finishes speaking and Tom, with confidence, declares, “I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the priest turns to Tucker and starts talking again. He’s barely listening. Tucker tries to stay focused and not think about the other people in the room, but it’s no use. He tightens his grip on his fiancé’s hands and takes a deep breath. Two words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is a pause, and everybody is looking at Tucker expectantly. Tucker swallows the lump in his throat and murmurs, “I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The priest has barely finished speaking the final lines of the vows when Tom pulls Tucker in for a kiss, and the ceremony is finished. Tucker’s anxiety dissipates in Tom’s embrace. In his </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> embrace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, Tom catches Tucker’s eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, you’re supposed to marry your best friend, not your archenemy,” Tom jokes. “I still won’t be switching parties just because we’re married.” He’s grinning slyly, and Tucker kisses the expression off his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and let me enjoy our wedding,” Tucker grumbles, and lets Tom kiss him again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this au needs some happy cassicho fluff so i have provided :&gt;</p></blockquote></div></div>
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